


Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi

by ladygabe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Do-Over, Fix-it Fix, Gen, Spoilers, TLJ Spoilers, The Last Jedi Spoilers, let's try this again, rian johnson no
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygabe/pseuds/ladygabe
Summary: A retelling of The Last Jedi, hopefully with everyone in character this time. Spoilers for the movie, as it will track closely at least for the first couple chapters.





	1. Scene One: Space

**Author's Note:**

> Like many people, I came out The Last Jedi disappointed. It felt like all of the characters had been switched out with bad fanfic versions of themselves. So this is my personal retelling of the movie. It will track closely to the movie events for the first few chapters, but likely swerve off into what I hope are plotlines that actually make sense. Some fudging with actual movie dialogue and facts occurs.

****

**STAR WARS  
EPISODE VIII: THE LAST JEDI**

The FIRST ORDER reigns. Having decimated the peaceful Republic, Supreme Leader Snoke now deploys his merciless legions to seize military control of the galaxy. 

Only General Leia Organa’s band of RESISTANCE fighters stand against the rising tyranny, certain that Jedi Master Luke Skywalker will return and restore a spark of hope to the fight. 

But the Resistance has been exposed. As the First Order speeds toward the rebel base, the brave heroes mount a desperate escape….

**SCENE ONE**

_D'Qar_

All pretense of concealment was lost. The Resistance Base moved like a living thing, muscles rippling as it awoke from its bed in D'Qar's lush jungle. Transports littered the sky, fleeing to the safety of the command ship orbiting above, but more remained on the ground, hatches open. 

“What is left?” Lieutenant Connix asked, resisting the urge to run. There was no point when there was no safe place on the ground; it would only serve to panic the others around her further. 

“Twenty crates of ammunition, and the turrets themselves,” the man beside her said, nearly jogging to keep up despite her shorter stride. 

“Leave them,” she commanded. “There's no time. We need our people more.” He nodded, racing off to convey the orders. Connix turned her eyes to the sky. She could not see them yet, but she knew what waited out in the dark: the First Order's fleet, prepared to take their revenge. 

 

_Space Above D'Qar_

General Hux stood on the bridge, a sour smile twisting his lips. The Resistance wounded them gravely with the destruction of Starkiller, but the First Order had learned from the failures of the Empire; their power was not limited to a single machine of mass destruction. Starkiller had done its job. For this, the ship that just dropped out of hyperspace beside his own would do. 

The Imperial Dreadnought showcased the glory of the First Order in a way no other ship could. It was a massive beast, its girth making the Star Destroyers trailing it look like pups following their mother. Its exterior was near black, jutting with extrusions that were now coming to life, barrels swiveling forward, each a lethal weapon in their own right. It alone possessed more firepower than the entire Resistance put together. 

Hux opened his mouth to speak (he thought, perhaps, to make an inspirational speech) when a blip appeared on the radar. A bridge officer looked up at him with a frown. “Sir, we are being approached by a single fighter. X-Wing.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. Surely he had not heard that right. What suicidal idiot would face a fleet with a single X-Wing? “Pardon?”

“It, um, is hailing us. Sir.” Hux shook himself. 

“Patch it through.” The voice that filled the bridge filled his throat with bile. 

“This is Commander Poe Dameron, hailing the First Order. I have a message for General Hux, from General Leia Organa.” Of course it would be that damn pilot.

“This is General Hux speaking,” Hux snapped. “The words of your precious Princess are worthless to me. She, like your pitiful Resistance, are relics of the past, a lingering disease that will be wiped from the -” The pilot's voice cut him off. 

“Uh, hello? I'm looking for General Hux.” Hux huffed, annoyed that his speech had been interrupted. He started over. 

“This is General Hux speaking. The words of your--”

“Hux. Starts with an H. Tall guy, kind of pasty?” Hux faltered, bewildered. 

“I am here. Can you hear me?”

“I mean, I guess I can hold while you find him. I think it's Hux, H-U-X. Might be Hugs, though.” Hux shot a look at the communication officer, who was obviously struggling to keep his expression blank. 

“Are we patched through? Can he hear me?” 

“Yes, sir,” the officer replied. “The signal is strong.”

“Pilot!” Hux snapped. “This is General Hux, can you hear me?”

“All right, I'll hold.” Hux stamped a foot, whirling towards the officer. 

“Figure out what is wrong with that damn line!” The man cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Um, Sir, I think he can hear you just fine. It appears he might be stall-”

The engines of the X-Wing flared bright enough to be seen from the bridge, and suddenly the small craft was hurtling towards the Dreadnought. 

 * * *

“Woohoo, that thing has a kick!” Poe Dameron laughed as the new thrusters flared to life, throwing the X-Wing into an abrupt approach. BB-8 squealed from his perch in Black One's astromech bay, her delight mirroring that of the pilot's. 

“Don't get cocky, Poe,” came General Organa's calm voice over the comm, serene despite the chaos occurring around her. 

“Too late, sir,” Poe answered, lining up the Dreadnought's nearest cannon in his sights. “Just make sure those transports get off the ground. I'll make sure this ugly bucket of bolts doesn't bother you.” Despite his flippancy, his mouth twisted into a grimace of concentration. This was a long shot, and they all knew it; the Dreadnought was still moving, and would be within range of the fleeing transport ships in mere minutes. If just one auxiliary cannon was still live at that point, dozens of defenseless Resistance members would die. 

The first cannon went up in a flash of sparks. The second, then the third. 

Then Black One's radar screen lit up like a Life Day festival. 

“Here they come.” Tie fighters poured out of the Dreadnought's hatches, and with them angry teams of gunfire. “Could use some help!” he yelped as one blast grazed his left wing. 

“All you had to do was ask,” Jessika Pava chirped. Black One's radar screen brightened again, but this time with friendly marks. Two squads of Resistance fighters raced into the fray. 

“Just keep them off of Poe!” Temmin Wexley ordered even as his aim rang true, a Tie Fighter bursting into flames. “He's got to get those cannons.” 

“Working on it,” Poe mumbled to himself. Five. Six. Time was running short. If this Dreadnought got much closer, the cannons would be the least of their worries. As if his thoughts had been heard by the officers back on deck, his comm crackled. 

“All Squadrons, prepare to be assisted,” General Ackbar said. “We're sending the bombers.” 

“Blue Squadron!” Poe called. Seven. “Circle back and guard those payloads!” 

“Yes, sir!” Pava replied, and Poe pushed the rest of the battle out of his mind. He had to focus.

Eight. 

* * * 

Paige Tico's knuckles were white as she guided the B/SF-17 through the black expanse above D'Qar. She had flown starships since she was knee-high, and had hauled a million kilos of cargo in her time. No cargo, however, had set her on edge like the one she was carrying now. She knew it was her imagination, but she thought she could feel the weight in the belly of the ship, the deadly eggs her ship was carrying: two-hundred proton bombs, one stray laser bolt away from ignition. 

“Only one way to take that weight off,” she murmured to the otherwise empty cockpit. The Dreadnought loomed in front of her, still lazily making its way forward, seemingly indifferent to the dog fights happening over its bow. That was the ship that threatened everything she loved. And that was her target. 

She had just calmed her racing mind when things started to go wrong. A scream across the comm; the bomber to her far right – Janin was piloting that, with Torr and Sook – exploded, the force of the blast taking out both a Tie and an A-Wing unfortunate enough to be too close. _No._ There had only been four of them, and now there were only three. 

“Cannons down!” Poe's triumphant exclamation seemed at odds with the horror of the situation. The comms went silent for a long moment, leaving Paige with nothing but her cold terror. 

The B/SF-17 rocked violently, threatening to go end over end. Alarms screamed as Paige fought to correct the ship, muscles moving on memory and instinct. Her gaze raked over screens, absorbing status reports. Her breath caught in her throat. Direct hit to the rear bow. Gunnery cabin breached. Engine One disabled. Engine Two critical.

“Teene?” she called, though she knew there would be no answer. There could not be. It was a miracle the blast had not hit the hold, but not enough of one to save her gunner's life. She fought back tears as Poe's voice came across the radio again. 

“All units, fall back. Repeat, fall back to command.” His cheer from before was gone; he sounded weary and reluctant. She could tell the order had not been his first choice. 

“But we're almost to the Dreadnought!” Jessika replied. “We have a chance to take it out!” 

“Not my call, Blue One,” came the answer. “Command is ready to jump. Circle back.” 

Paige looked at her screens again. Did the math in her head. Took a deep breath. She hesitated only a second before she sent a private hail out to the foremost X-Wing.

“Black One, this is Bomber Three. Come in.” Her voice sounded much calmer than she had intended. That was nice. 

“Copy, Bomber Three.” Paige felt under her shirt for her pendant, a tear-drop shaped amulet of bronze smelt. She felt peace wash over her, as if the weight of not only the ship, but the entire universe had finally slid off of her shoulders. 

“Engine One is blown. Engine Two's gonna go at any moment.” 

“Turn back, as easy as you can. I'll give you cover.” She shook her head as if he could see it. 

“It's not going to make it, Black One.” Already the temperatures were reaching the top of the gauge. 

“Paige -” She could hear the strain in his voice. She cut him off. 

“I'm going to make sure you get out of here, okay? That you all get out of here.” Her hands moved with the ease of practice, angling the ship downwards, as if the dark metal of the Dreadnought below were merely a field she was going to touch down on. 

“You can turn back.”

“We both know I can't,” Paige said, voice soft. “Just do me a favor, okay? Tell Rose I love her. And that I'm sorry.” She touched her fingers to the pendant one last time. 

“I will.” Poe sounded far away as the surface of the Dreadnought hurtled up towards her. “May the Force be with you, Paige.”

“And with you,” she whispered. 

The B/SF-17 and its deadly payload ripped the Dreadnought apart.


	2. Scene Two: Ahch-To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Luke's first meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely changing tacts with Luke and his reasons for being on Ahch-To, not to mention how he reacts to Rey. Well, eventually. Pardon any errors, because this hasn't been proofread worth a damn.

**Scene Two**  
_Ahch-To_

The man standing before her was both more and less than what Rey had imagined during the long trip here. He was grizzled, certainly, with deep lines etching his face, but he was far from the wizened old man she had daydreamed about. His hair had not yet fully grayed, and there were hints of youth still in his bright blue eyes. He reached out for the hilt of the saber she offered him not with a hand of flesh, but with a jarring mechanical limb that looked more fit for a droid than a legend. She stood at a loss as he examined it with a furrowed brow. 

To Rey's shock, the man named Luke Skywalker promptly handed the lightsaber back to her. “Go away.”

“Excuse me?” The words had barely left her lips, and already he was partway down the stairs she had so painstakingly climbed. She raced after him, but he was quick for an old – okay, more middle-aged – man. The brief chase ended at a semi-circle of strange, round stone huts, which she found out had metal doors when one was promptly slammed in her face. 

“Hey!” All of her awe-struck timidness left her once. She slammed on the door with side of her fist, then the butt of her staff. “Open up!”

“Go away!” Skywalker responded, sounding more like petulant boy than a legendary Jedi Knight. Rey hit the door harder. There was no way she was going to have flown across the galaxy just to be turned away by a grown man acting like a _child_. 

“Your sister sent me!” she yelled. “The Resistance needs you!” There was silence. She paused, listening keenly for a response. 

More silence. 

“You know what? Fine. I'll be right back.” She stormed off. 

Ten minutes later, the metal door slammed against the opposite side of the hut, ripped clear off its hinges. Chewbacca burst in, his angry snarling filling the small fraction of the room he physically did not. 

“Chewie?” Rey watched in smug satisfaction as Luke was lifted off his feet and shook like a rag doll. That would teach him to slam a door in _her_ face. 

The bear hug that followed was nearly as delightful to watch. The Jedi knight wheezed as his ribs threatened to pop out of place. 

“Chewie,” Luke rasped. “Please put me down.” With some reluctance, the Wookie dropped him. Luke staggered, grabbing onto the wall for stability. “What are you even doing here?”

“As I was saying,” Rey answered, placing her hands on her hips. “General Organa sent us in the Falcon to find you, and to tell you that the Resistance needs your help.” 

“The Falcon?” Luke glanced at Chewie, then at Rey again, bewildered. “Wait. Where is Han?”

Rey's heart stopped for a moment, the all too raw emotions seizing her chest. Chewie looked away. Luke's face fell. 

“No.” He sat hard, as if his knees had given way beneath him. “He can't be. Not Han. How?” 

“You didn't know?” Rey asked, her gratification gone. This was a pain she did not relish bringing. “I thought you would have – General Organa said she felt it.” 

Another, older pain flashed across Luke's face. He bowed his head, but Rey could still see the tears forming in his eyes. 

Chewie sat next to him, wrapping one long arm around the small man's shoulders, and began to explain. Unable to watch, much less listen, Rey stepped outside, mission momentarily forgotten. 

 * * *

It was over an hour later that Luke came to find her. Rey had found a small outcropping that allowed her to watch the Ahch-To sunset. He sat beside her, gazing out into the distance. 

“I'm sorry,” he said. Rey accepted the apology with a nod, uncertain what to say. Luke remained silent for a moment, struggling to find the right words. “I need you to – tell Leia that, too. When you return.” She looked at him sharply then. He seemed older now, shoulders sloped, more like the wizened old man she had first expected. 

“I am not returning without you,” she said. Luke sighed. 

“Look, Rey. That is your name, yes?” She nodded. “I know you worked hard to find me. Leia worked hard to find me. But you have made a mistake. I wish I could help this Resistance of yours, I do- but I can't.” 

“Why not?” Rey demanded. “You're Luke Skywalker!” He winced. 

“Please, I don't want to get into it right now -” Rey jumped to her feet, towering over him with a scowl, her anger sparking back to life. 

“Well, that's too bad, because you had better!” she snapped. “You're Luke Skywalker, legendary Jedi Knight, crack fighter pilot, Hero of the Rebellion – you're _supposed_ to be the one who helps us! The one who saves us! The one who helps _me_.” She had not meant to say the last part, but it slipped from her lips before she could stop it. Luke lifted his head with a frown. 

“Help you with what?” he asked, eyes narrowing. 

“With – with _this_.” She held out the lightsaber again, as if it explained everything. Realization dawned on Luke. 

“You're Force-sensitive.” Rey bit her lip. That sounded right, but she had so little context. Luke stood as well, stepping away from her. “Leia, why would you send me – after –“ He shook himself. 

“Please.” Rey's voice dropped to a whisper. “There's something... something inside of me. It has always been there, dormant, waiting. But now it is _awake_. I do not know what it is, or how to control it. I -” She swallowed hard, forcing the admission from where it tried to lodge in her throat. “I am afraid.”

Luke looked back at her, those blue eyes deeply sad. Rey watched him war with himself as he studied her. 

“I cannot be your Master,” he finally answered. “But, in the morning, I will tell you what I know of the Jedi, and of the Force.”


	3. Scene 3: The Supremacy

**CHAPTER THREE**  
_The Supremacy_

Kylo Ren bristled as he stepped into the Supreme Leader's throne room to find General Hux already there. The Supreme Leader himself was laughing, a hoarse, grating sound that was unpleasant to the ears – almost as unpleasant as the sight of him was to the eyes. Snoke may have been human, once, but it was difficult to tell. His head was too large for his body, and warped in shape, making his bright eyes lopsided. Scars marred every inch of visible skin, as if he had suffered horrible burns.

Kylo had long grown used to Snoke's appearance. What turned his stomach was the fact that it was Hux, of all people, being graced with the Supreme Leader's delighted chuckles. Hux had a smug smile on his face, the self-righteous one that made Kylo violent every time he saw it. The talentless bastard had just lost an entire _dreadnaught_ ; why was Snoke treating him with such pleasure?

“Like flies on a string, indeed,” Snoke said, his laughter finally subsiding. “Very good, my boy. Very good. Keep me updated on their progress. – Ah, my faithful apprentice. Kylo, do come.” 

Kylo stalked forward as Hux turned to leave. He avoided eye-contact with the other man as they passed one another, for he was not certain he could stop himself from striking him if he saw that smirk up close. He knelt before his master, glad his mask covered his expression. 

He quickly remembered the folly of that comfort as Snoke looked at him, strange eyes seeming to pierce him to the very core. Snoke waited until the door had closed behind Hux to speak. 

“Tell me, apprentice. How heals your scar?” Snoke might as well have slapped him. 

“It is fine,” Kylo answered, tone as bland as possible. 

“It bothers you,” Snoke said. “Come, let me see it.” Despite the request, he did not wait for Kylo to remove it. He simply lifted his hand, unhooking it with the power of the Force, and peeling it away to reveal Kylo's face. The scar ran up one cheek, marring his otherwise flawless face. The synthetic skin holding it together was a black, metallic substance, making it appear as if his flesh had split to reveal a mechanical interior. 

“Ah, there it is,” Snoke said, his voice strangely kind. “I can feel how much you despise it, young one. How it pains you to see it in the mirror, in any reflection of yourself. You see it as a mark of your failure.” Kylo could not have felt more bare if Snoke had ripped all of his armor away. He stared at the smooth metal of the floor, bile rising in his throat. 

“Look at me.” The command was followed with a sharp tug of the Force beneath Kylo's chin, forcing it up. “See my body, see the scars.” His fingertips ghosted across his own malformed face. “They would break a vain man's heart. Do you know why I do not hide them, behind a mask or a cowl?” Kylo frowned. It had never come to mind, but now he recognized the inconsistency between his own disgust for his single scar and the way his Master proudly bore his, in full sight of the entirety of the First Order. 

“I do not,” Kylo said, finally finding his voice. 

“Because they do not showcase my failures,” Snoke answered, “but they display my strength. If I could survive the horrors that gave me this face, what do my enemies think they could possibly do to harm me?” Kylo frowned, reaching up to touch his own scar, feeling the canyon it carved through his cheek. “Your own grandfather, the great Darth Vader – why, I would say he was marred far more than even I. He was forged in fires hotter than either of us have ever felt. He was half droid, by the end, mechanical limbs and lungs keeping him alive. Yet none would ever dare call him weak.” 

“Because he was not,” Kylo answered, lifting his chin further, of his own volition this time. “He was without equal.” Snoke gave him a twisted smile. 

“Precisely. As you shall be. You are a blade who has only begun to be tempered. I did not expect the girl to be such a potent hammer, but now that she has struck I find I was mistaken.” Snoke reached out, tracing the air in front of him. Kylo felt the ghost of his fingertip along the scar in his cheek. “She will be a great part of your final training, the training that will make you truly Sith.” 

“What must I do?” Kylo asked, his heart leaping in his chest. 

“I have many tasks for you,” Snoke answered. “The first is to assist Hux in this little chase we have found ourselves in.” All of Kylo's disgust and rage came roaring back. All this talk about becoming like Vader, and he was to play second fiddle to _Hux_?

“Why?” he snapped. “Why should I be regulated to helping such a worthless tool?” Snoke clucked his tongue, shaking his head. 

“You are right in your second adjective, but not the first. General Hux is that and only that: a tool. But he is not a worthless one. I have wielded him quite well, if I may say so myself, since I snatched him from Sloane's hands. But now comes the time that you must learn how to wield not only allies such as him, but your greatest enemies.” Kylo frowned, emotions fading again into uncertainty. 

“Go now,” Snoke said. “Play your part in ending this loathsome little Resistance. Watch Hux, and contemplate for me the ways you could best use him for your own gain. When you return, I will share with you how we will do the same with the girl.” 

Kylo rose, uncharacteristically thoughtful, and departed from the chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, I have caught The Plague (TM), so updates may be slow. Thank you to those who have left kudos and comments already! I adore every one of you and am glad that people seem to enjoy this! 
> 
> I had thought this scene was only going to be a couple of paragraphs, but it ran away with me. Snoke has joined the ranks of characters who are going to be very different from their TLJ counterparts. I was disappointed in how much Snoke played like a cartoon villain instead of a real character, and wanted to give some depth to both him and his relationship with Kylo.


	4. Scene Four: The Raddus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're like that one article writer who thought The Last Jedi was bad because the characters had too many ~feelings~, head for the escape pod now, because this chapter and the next are gonna be nothing but feelings all over the place. 
> 
> The conversation referenced comes from the Poe Dameron comic, which is a delight.

**SCENE FOUR**   
_The Raddus_

As The Raddus moved through lightspeed, General Leia Organa sat in her chambers, pouring herself a solitary glass. One of the perks of being the leader of the Resistance was that the rationing of supplies such as liquor only applied to her when she wished it to.

One of the greatest drawbacks was nights like this. D'Qar had been safely evacuated, if only barely. They'd lost two bombers and several fighters – not to mention, the ten living, breathing beings that had gone with them, and were now not but space dust.

She looked up as her door chimed, then slid open. Seeing who it was, she fished out a second glass and filled it up as well. “Sit,” she said, without preamble. 

Commander Poe Dameron looked older than his thirty-two years. She knew that look, the shadows that crept into the eyes, the way the shoulders sloped like the corners of his mouth. He obeyed her, slumping into the chair across from her and accepting the glass without comment. They both lifted their drinks in silent ritual, clinking them together and then taking a deep draught. 

“I gave Rose Tico the news about her sister,” Poe finally said, staring into the depths of his glass without seeing it. Leia nodded in understanding. That was a task she would never curse anyone with, if she had the choice. 

“How did she take it?” Poe laughed without humor, rubbing a dark mark on his cheek. 

“She punched me.” 

“That happens sometimes,” Leia said. 

“Then she screamed at me a bit. How flying the bombers was supposed to be safer than being in a fighter, how the fighters were supposed to protect them, how I was the Flight Commander, which makes me the one responsible for getting everyone home safe. How I was supposed to get Paige home safe, and I failed her.” Poe swallowed hard, eyes over bright even in the dim light. “Then, when the steam let out, she started to cry. Cried for a while. I sat with her, till she could gather herself back up again.” He wet his lips, setting his glass down in a failed attempt to hide the way his hand trembled. 

“She's right, you know,” he continued. Leia opened her mouth to interject, but Poe held up his hand to stop her. “No, no, don't start. I know, it's not actually my fault. There was nothing I could have done to save Paige. The situation was what it was and I did the best I could in the circumstances. Paige made her final moments her own and that is more than anyone can ask for. I've buried enough empty caskets to know that by now. Talked at enough funerals, told stories at enough wakes.” He looked out the viewport to the stars streaking by, leaving white lines across his vision. 

“But I _am_ the Flight Commander. Every single pilot, every single ship, every mechanic and astromech and errand boy in that hanger is my responsibility. So when one of them dies – yeah, fate may take a portion of the blame, and the enemy another, but part of it is mine.” Leia reached across the table, putting her hand over Poe's in a silent gesture of support. She knew that burden too well, which would be no surprise to him. 

“Do you remember when we talked about what I could offer the Resistance, that once?” Poe asked, finally looking back at her. 

“And you completely missed the point?” Leia said. “Clearly.” Poe forced a smile. 

“I don't think I can do it, General.” Leia sat back in surprise. 

“What do you mean?” Poe bit his bottom lip, shame obvious on his face. 

“What I am for the Flight Crew, you are for the entire Resistance. You carry the weight of us all around, all the time. Because that's who you are, at the end of the day. Take away everything else, and you're still a leader. At the age I was getting written up for pulling dumb stunts on the Academy lawn, you were a Galactic Senator.”

“You do not have to be _me_ , Poe,” Leia said, troubled by the sudden lack of confidence that had revealed itself in her normally brash young Commander. 

“But I would, if I became the leader of the Resistance after you. I _would_ have to be you. And I wanted to be, ever since I was little. But I'm not, General. At the end of the day I'm a pilot. I'm good at jumping in an X-Wing and blowing things up, not -” 

He did get the chance to finish his sentence. BB-8 rolled into the room without announcement, whirring and beeping excitedly. 

“Finn's awake?” The announcement distracted both Poe and Leia from their somber conversation. Poe leapt to his feet. “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, buddy! That's great news! Yes, I'm coming, hold on -” He glanced back at Leia. She waved a dismissive hand. 

“Go see to Finn. We'll finish this conversation later.” He gave her a grateful smile. “And Poe? Don't worry so much. I'm not planning on going anywhere for quite a while yet.” 

Despite her optimistic words, she poured herself another glass as she watched him go.


End file.
